first-time dog ownership
Hi, everybody!
That little canine dude licking my chin is Buddy Bear. For three years now he’s been training us. I thought their puppyhood lasted only about six months. (I can almost hear veteran dog-owners cackle with glee.) Yes, Virginia, it does take a lot longer than that.
So how come we have a dog, especially since Robert didn’t want one, vehemently did not want one. It’s all because I got a late-life hankering to have a baby, especially since we had just returned from seeing son Blake’s new baby, Beck, and playing with their dogs. I decided I wanted a Yorkie or Yorkie-mix, full-grown and beautifully trained. I called dozens of breeders, who of course didn’t have such a dog. As one man said, “Lady, if we had a dog like that, why would we sell it???”
I finally located a breeder an hour away who would sell a female dog she’d acquired for breeding, but she (the dog) only came into heat once and never again. I tore-assed up the highway and onto the breeder’s farm, where there were several pens of Yorkies and hybrids, all very healthy and socialized. The breeder introduced me to the dog I’d come to buy, and I disliked her. She was totally blah. I had a Coke before heading back home, and then I spotted this one little guy in the pen with a truly winsome face. “What’s he?” “Oh, he’s a Yorkie-Poo, half Yorkshire terrier and half poodle.” “Can I hold him?” And out bounded this fluffball who made a beeline for me and began to untie my shoelaces.
Well, I explained, my husband reluctantly agreed to a full-grown, well-trained dog, and this one is neither. Can I take him out on approval?
We struck a deal that if he and Robert didn’t bond, I could bring him back and let the breeder keep a hundred bucks of his price. I put this little 3-pound pup on the passenger’s seat and headed back down south. We stopped off to show him to Robert at his lab (he was understandably non-commital but agreed that this was a very cute dog). Then I stopped to show him to my best friend Kathy, who loved him. Then I put him on my shoulder and spent half an hour at Petsmart getting his crate, bed, food, etc. Then finally got him home and put him down on the grass. The little dude had not pee’d for three hours and seemed a little shell-shocked, slept all night without a whimper, and the next day became our puppy.
A few days later I said to Robert, “Honey, I want to amend our deal. Instead of a week’s approval, I promise that if at any time either of us wants to offload this dog, we’ll do it. I won’t whine or be martyred.” Can you imagine anything so naive? I hadn’t the slightest notion of how c-razy we would become about Buddy Bear (so-named because I’d always wanted a dog named Buddy, and he looked like a miniature bear cub).
Every time we take him out in public, several people say he’s the cutest dog they’ve ever seen. We reply, That’s his survival strategy. If he weren’t so damn cute we’d have made puppy sausage out of him long ago. They laugh uneasily unless they are veteran dog owners, in which case they say they know exactly what we mean.
I just looked back at my journal from those early days, and found this entry taken from a letter I emailed to my sister:
The funniest the pup has been is with an empty Deja Blue water bottle. I first took its top off and gave it to him outside, but it made a honking sound when he barked into its mouth, and thenceforth he pounced in wide circles around it, barking and lunging, but wouldn’t touch it again. It’s the first time I have ever seen him intimidated by anything. So when we came back in I put the top back on and tossed it for him, and he has gone nuts over it. Much grrrring and pouncing, and of course the bottle rolls away and he attacks it as it tries to escape. He rolled it under the red chair and it got stuck, so I pried it loose with a yardstick (I’m getting too old for this, sister) and tossed it back into the yard. At first he grabbed it and trotted it around the yard, but then became totally disinterested. Back here in the garden room, however, the games have begun again. I put a few pieces of kibble in it, screwed the top back on tightly, and now it rattles when he attacks it. The Grrrring escalates, and we have an instant party.
This is my life right now. Puppy, office, puppy, office, stop for gas, puppy. I don’t get to the gym, I turn down lunch invitations, I just live out here in the garden room with this little dog, ostensibly to housetrain him, but also to enjoy his clowning around. I got him a week ago. He now owns me. Fortunately,Robert likes him a lot, but we’re both clear that the pup is my responsibility.
Right now the door is open to the outside. Buddy comes in and out, sproings and zooms and rolls and challenges squirrels, and right this minute I am supremely content.
Knew you’d understand. xoxoxo Roz
